


Blossomed the Lovely Stars

by CrownofSilverStars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Harry is Lord Black, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Mpreg, Professor Harry Potter, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownofSilverStars/pseuds/CrownofSilverStars
Summary: If there was anyone daring and cunning enough to hide their mutual children from the Dark Lord, it was Arrakis "Harry" Black.  The fact that he’d managed to hide eight of them…well, it certainly was a feat.





	1. Nebula

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Evangeline, where he says, "Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,/Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels." 
> 
> Inspired when the first line of the summary popped randomly into my head.

_Nebula – A cloud of dust and gas in space, usually illuminated by one or more stars. Nebulae represent the raw material the stars are made of._

The throbbing beat of some heavy metal song pounded through the club.  Arrakis ‘Harry’ Black didn’t recognize the song – though he was relatively certain it was done by the Muggle band ‘Queen’ – and he didn’t much care.  All that mattered to him was the intoxicating feel of the bass, the writhing bodies around him, and the pair of hands gripping his derrière as they ground, half-hard, against each other.

 _The Rooster_ was a primarily Muggle club, but thanks to the owner being a Squib, there was also a basement dance floor and private rooms reserved only for those of the magical persuasion.  Joseph Abbott, more commonly known as ‘Joe’, had arranged for his witch sister to ward the basement and the third floor against Muggles, while covering the entire club with other common wards, including ones to discourage Muggle bobbies and prevent the place from being shut down.

The wizarding half of the club had enough patronage that Joe could have made the entire thing wizard-friendly and turned the basement into a quieter bar if he’d wanted to, but the magicless man was insistent on being open to everyone.  “Most Muggles can’t ensure that their bars won’t be shut down if they cater to people like us,” he’d told Harry on one of his first visits to the bar.  “I can.  I’m going to make my place open to as many people as possible, magical or not.”  It wasn’t a popular decision among the purebloods who frequented the bar, but they grudgingly accepted it.

Harry didn’t care.  His own mother was muggleborn, though that was a fact kept closely guarded by the notoriously pureblooded Black family.  His own aunt, Walburga Black, had married her second cousin, Orion Black, in order to keep the blood in the family.  (Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he and Cousin Orion shared a persuasion.  Unfortunately, while it was possible for male wizards to carry, it required a great deal of power on both sides, and children of male-male unions were often considered the gift of magic.  There was no guarantee such a gift would be granted, however, so many pureblooded families required their heirs to marry women, no matter their sexuality.)

“What’s your name?” the man attached to him whispered into his ear.  Well, it would have been a whisper, but the volume level of the music required one to almost yell to be heard six inches away.

“Harry!” he replied, giving out his nickname – given by his Muggleborn mother, as ‘Arrakis’ was a bit too unusual for the Muggle world – instead of his proper, very-obvious-pureblood name.  Arrakis was one of the stars in the constellation Draco, a fact that would be obvious to anyone who had passed Astronomy in school.  The star name would almost definitely identify him as a Black, as the family had a penchant for star names.  Harry was much less conspicuous.

“I’m Tom,” the man purred into his ear, somehow managing to be heard despite the noise.  “Do you want to get a private room?” he asked, running his tongue along Harry’s ear and causing him to shiver.

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said breathlessly before allowing himself to be led off the dance floor to the stairs which led to the third floor – the first floor being the Muggle dance floor and the second floor being reserved for Muggles who wanted to do exactly what Harry and Tom were off to do now.

They ended up making out in the hallway of the third floor as Tom attempted to pull out a key from his pocket and insert it into the lock.  He’d obviously come to _The Rooster_ for specific reasons. 

While Harry always hoped his nights would end this way, he tended to just be satisfied with the rush that came with the freedom to lose his inhibitions, something he was only allowed within the walls of _The Rooster._   He didn’t often have to though.  Between his lithe body and his elegant, pureblood features, he rarely left the club without a bedmate.  Usually he just rented one of the club’s rooms for his affair, as he wasn’t planning to bring a stranger into his home.  The summer before, during the month between his seventeenth birthday and the day he returned to Hogwarts for his seventh year, he had visited the club nearly every night. 

Tom certainly wasn’t a disappointment.  Their encounter lasted several rounds, and ended with them collapsing into sleep in the rented room.  Joe wouldn’t kick them out, but he would charge them for every hour they were in there.  Plus, Joe liked him.  Phineas Abbott had been one of Harry’s roommates and good friends.

The next morning surprisingly wasn’t awkward.  In fact, it started with another round of sex and ended with a second round in the shower.

“I’m at _The Rooster_ every Thursday night,” Tom offered as they made to leave the room, “if you’d like to do this again.

Harry paused, before a coy smile crossed his face. 

“When I’m in the country, I’m here any night I don’t have an early morning planned.  I hope to see you around then.”

That was the beginning of their encounters.  Before the summer was out, they were meeting three nights a week and welcome in the other’s residences.

Later, Harry would be feel very stupid that it took him three months to figure out that his recurrent lover was actually the Dark Lord Voldemort.  It only happened after Tom mentioned a meeting at Malfoy Manor that Harry knew was only for Death Eaters.  Narcissa and Bellatrix had told him not to come by.  And Tom didn’t have the Dark Mark.

“Merlin, Morgana, and Salazar,” Harry cursed, jerking upwards and away from Tom’s embrace.

The man frowned.

“What is it, lover?”

“My cousins told me about that meeting,” Harry said slowly.  “They said not to come by Malfoy Manor last week because the Dark Lord was hosting a Death Eater meeting there.”  He paused, and his eyes trailed down Tom’s bare skin to his blank forearm.  “You don’t have the Dark Mark,” he continued.

“I could have glamoured it,” Tom pointed out, but he looked far too amused.

“You can’t,” Harry replied.  “Bella let me test hers.  The Dark Mark cannot be covered by any traditional methods.  The only thing that I found that worked was Muggle cosmetics.  And we’ve been sweating too much for that not to have come off.”  He took a deep breath, well aware of Tom’s dark eyes boring into him.  “You’re the Dark Lord Voldemort.”

“I am,” the man said freely, and his brown eyes faded into the sanguine orbs that the Dark Lord was known for. 

Harry stared for another moment, then laid back down and snuggled back into the blankets.  His next words were muffled by his pillow.

“Just because I’m sleeping with you doesn’t mean I’m going to join you!”

“Doesn’t it?” Tom asked amusedly, propping himself up on one arm so that he could look down on his lover.

“I refuse to take a bond of servitude with someone I’m sleeping with.  No, thank you.  Plus, I’m about to leave on my globetrotting research trip.  I’m fine with sex when we’re in the same country, if you’re amicable, but I don’t want the Dark Mark.”

“Don’t you support my cause?” Tom asked curiously.

“Some of it,” Harry admitted.  “I agree that the Wizarding World needs to be more fully segregated from the Muggle world.  I agree that our culture has stagnated and needs to progress.  I don’t agree with the blood purity debate.”

“You’re a Black,” Tom deadpanned.

“A half-blood Black who was only allowed to remain a member of the family because my mother was descended from the Squib line of Rowena Ravenclaw,” Harry revealed.  Tom knew he was a half-blood.  He’d known that since before Harry had revealed his last name.  “A quarter of Hogwarts is nothing to scoff at, as I’m sure you know.  And aren’t you a half-blood as well?”

At Tom’s flinch, Harry knew he was right.  Harry pressed on.

“You and I are two of the most powerful wizards I know.  Dumbledore as well – yes, I know you hate him,” he said at Tom’s growl, “but you can’t deny he’s powerful.  And also a half-blood.  His mother was Muggleborn.”

“How do you know this?” Tom wondered.

“When I was nine, I got tired of some of my elder relatives disparaging comments about my mother’s blood.  So I went on this massive research binge to discover famous and powerful half-bloods.  Merlin was also on my list.  His mother was a Muggle,” Harry said.  “Uncle Cygnus says that that’s the moment they knew I was destined for Ravenclaw.”

“So, you won’t take my Mark?” Tom asked.

“I’d rather not,” Harry said apologetically.  “I’ll be a supporter, but not a Marked follower.”

Tom sighed. 

“Alright then.  I tried.  Are you up for round two?”

Harry smiled lasciviously, and that was the end of it.

Three months later, Harry had just arrived in Cote d’Ivoire and was given some rather interesting news during his entry medical check-up.

“Excuse me?” Harry said in disbelief, not quite comprehending what the mediwizard had just told him. 

“I asked if you were aware that you were sixteen weeks pregnant,” the mediwizard said.  “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Sixteen weeks?” Harry asked faintly.  “I need to sit down.”

The mediwizard helpfully conjured an armchair for him to sink into.

“Would you like me to redirect you to the wizarding hospital for a prenatal appointment?”

“That would be appreciated,” Harry continued, voice still faint.

Male pregnancy, while not unheard of, was unusual without the usage of specific spells and potions.  It took two powerful wizards and the desire for a family in order for it to happen accidentally.  It certainly said something for both Tom and Harry’s magical strength.  Harry certainly desired children of his own eventually, though he wasn’t prepared for them now.  He wasn’t sure of Tom’s own feelings on the subject – they weren’t in a romantic relationship, they hadn’t discussed these things! – but right now was not the time even if he did want them.  Tom was five years into a war that had labeled him Public Enemy Number One by the British Ministry of Magic.  His reach stretched well into Europe, which he actually had a better hold of than his home country, which was standing – not exactly strong, more like cowering – behind the back of Albus Dumbledore and his so-called ‘Order of the Phoenix.’ 

For a secret vigilante organization, they weren’t subtle. 

The Healer at the hospital told him another surprise.

“Congratulations, you’re having twins!”

Harry choked on air.  This was certainly not how he expected him research tour to be kicked off.

He quickly managed to compose himself and asked, “I’m supposed to be on a research tour.  How will my pregnancy impact that?”

“You should try to limit your magical use during your last trimester,” the Healer said.  “Male pregnancies tend to be shorter, as do first-time pregnancies and twin pregnancies.  I presume this is your first?”

“It is,” Harry said with a nod.  He was only nineteen years old, after all.

“You’ll be lucky to get to eight months,” the Healer said.  “Honestly, I’d expect closer to seven-and-a-half.  You should probably return home around the sixth-seventh month just to be safe.”

Harry sighed.  He’d hoped to be in Africa until at least June.  Now he’d be leaving beginning of April, at the latest.  And worst of all, he couldn’t tell Tom.

Tom obviously wanted a family.  Harry wouldn’t have become pregnant naturally if he didn’t.  But whether he would admit to wanting a family…that was a different question.  Even if he did admit it, he would want to protect them.  He would assign guards, set up wards, possibly insist that Harry move in with him.  All things that would get them noticed by Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.  ‘Light Side’ or not, there were definitely people on that side that would think nothing of kidnapping and/or killing an innocent child for the crimes of the father.  Additionally, Tom wouldn’t let Harry travel.  Harry couldn’t be caged.  He needed his freedom.  He needed to be useful.  He wasn’t the typical library-researcher Ravenclaw.  He preferred his research to be hands-on.

Well, he’d figure it out.  First things first…

“What do I need to know about male pregnancy?” he asked.

Four months later, he returned to Britain, traveling the Muggle way in order to avoid whatever spies the Dark Lord had at international transportation.  Instead of returning to the townhouse he called home, which the Dark Lord knew about and had access to, he Apparated directly to Black Manor.

A house-elf appeared immediately to take his cloak.

“Good morning, Master Arrakis,” the elf greeted.

“Is my lord uncle available?” Harry questioned.

“Lord Master is in his study,” the elf reported.  “He is being alone.”

Harry nodded curtly and ascended the grand staircase to the second floor.  The lord’s study was close to the staircase, so that anyone meeting with him would not spend much time in the manor.

Harry knocked on the door.

“Come in, Arrakis,” Arcturus Black called.

Harry entered the room to see his uncle – technically his first cousin twice removed – working on paperwork.

“Sit down,” the lord ordered without looking up.  “I’m almost finished.”

Harry did as he was told.  Five minutes later, Arcturus set his papers aside and gave him a considering look.

“I thought you were supposed to be in Africa until June.”

Harry considered his options, then decided that he wasn’t a Slytherin and could afford to be blunt.

“I’m pregnant,” he stated.

Arcturus blinked.   It was the only expression of shock that he gave off, but Harry knew how to read him.  He had not expected that.

“I assume the father doesn’t know?”

“He does not,” Harry agreed.

“Why not?  Male pregnancy required both participants to be desirous of a family.”

Harry winced.

“The father is the Dark Lord.”

Arcturus blinked again.  If the situation wasn’t so dire, Harry would have enjoyed breaking his composure.  He and Sirius both enjoyed breaking their Slytherin relatives’ (in other words, _all_ of their relatives’) masks. 

“He would be able to protect you,” Arcturus pointed out.

“If he protects me, Dumbledore or the Ministry find out that there’s something that needs to be protected,” Harry argued.  “If he knows, he won’t leave me without protection, but if there’s protection, someone will find out about it.  If it’s just me, no one will pay attention that a minor son of the Black family got pregnant out of wedlock.”

The wedlock wasn’t a major concern.  In the wizarding world, it only counted as illegitimacy if one or both of the participants was married when it happened, and even then, it was only shameful on the side of a married woman.  There were potions to determine lineage, so it was easy to prove parentage.  Harry’s cousins, Bellatrix and Andromeda, had both been born out of wedlock, and their father had only married their mother two weeks before Narcissa was born.  Since neither Harry nor Voldemort was married, their children would be considered legitimate heirs of their houses, unless Voldemort formally disowned them.

Which Harry doubted would happen.  As Arcturus said, both participants had to want a family for a male pregnancy to occur.  The Dark Lord wanted a family.  Harry wanted a family.  Harry just wasn’t willing to tell Voldemort about the family until the war was older.  There was no way he was going to put his children in harm’s way, which is exactly where they’d be if they were under guard.

Plain sight was the best place to hide, after all.

“That’s true enough,” Arcturus agreed.  “I didn’t know you were a Death Eater though, and how are you planning on hiding it when he calls you to meetings?”

“I’m not a Death Eater,” Harry said firmly.  “We met at the club.  He had his eyes glamoured, and I used my nickname.  We didn’t even make to last names until the third time we’d slept together.”

Arcturus raised a hand.

“That’s as much as I want to know about your sexual activities.  I assume it progressed into a relationship?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“I like him more than just as a sexual partner.  I know he feels some sort of fondness for me, though I’m not sue how much.  He asked if I’d join the Death Eaters and I said no.  He didn’t do anything to me.  He listens to me.  In some ways, he treats me as his Consort, though I don’t think he realizes that’s what he’s doing.”

“If you recognize a magical bond, he should recognize it as well,” Arcturus pointed out.

Harry shook his head.

“He’s Muggle-raised.  He probably knows about magical bonds but he doesn’t have any first-hand experience with them – besides his Death Eaters, of course.”

“The Dark Lord is Muggle-raised?” Arcturus said with another shocked blink.

“He’s a half-blood.  Pureblood mother died in childbirth, Muggle father rejected magic and his son.  Tom thinks there may have been a love potion involved.”

“Tom?”

“Tom Riddle.  His birth name.  He was the presumed Muggleborn in Father’s year…?”

“I remember,” Arcturus said with a nod.  “That’s the Dark Lord’s real identity?”

“I always said that half-bloods were just as powerful as purebloods,” Harry replied, trying not to sound smug.

Arcturus sighed and leaned back slightly in his chair – the closest to slumping the man would get, even in a private setting. 

“What do you need from me?” he asked.  “I assume you came here for help?”

“A healer under oath would be wonderful,” Harry admitted.  “I would have stayed in Africa, but wizard births tend to be more dangerous than witch births, and they don’t have the resources we do anyways.  Additionally, I would rather not have my infant children in the same areas I’ve been researching in.”

“When are you due?” Arcturus asked.

“The beginning of June, but the healer warned me not to be surprised if it was as soon as the end of April.  Male pregnancies tend to be shorter, as do first pregnancies, twin pregnancies, and pregnancies where the bearer is young.  Given that I’m nineteen, male, and carrying twins, I’ll be more surprised if they don’t come early.”

Unsurprisingly, his prediction came true.

Less than a month later, he was giving birth in an isolated wing of Black Manor.  Arcturus was waiting in the antechamber, having hired a Healer from China who specialized in male pregnancies to assist with the birth.  Narcissa was there as well, as the young woman was almost two years into her training as a Healer and more than capable of acting as a midwife.  She had been bound by blood oaths, made stronger by the familial connection, to not reveal anything that occurred here.

“Don’t listen to what anyone says, Cissy,” Harry panted as another contraction hit him.  “Pregnancy is not fun.”

“I never thought that it was,” Narcissa said calmly.  Harry envied her ability to seem serene under any circumstances.

“But the older women like to glorify motherhood as the best thing that could ever happen in a woman’s life.  I heard one matron say that pregnancy was the best thing that could happen in a woman’s life.  She was definitely a liar.  I’m not sure she’d ever been preg – Aah!” he yelped as another contraction hit him.

“You are almost ready to push,” the Chinese man told him.

Twenty minutes later, he had his twin children in his arms.  His daughter had been born first, followed closely by her brother.  The Chinese healer had left and he was alone with Narcissa and Arcturus.

“What are you going to name them?” Arcturus asked.

“Aspidiske Mira and Alsciaukat Muliphen Black,” Harry responded promptly. 

“Aspidiske, the brightest star in the constellation Carina, and Mira, of the constellation Cetus,” Arcturus identified.  “Alsciaukat of the constellation Lynx, and Muliphen in Canis Major.” 

“Precisely,” Harry said solemnly.  Beyond Arcturus, he could see Narcissa stifling a laugh.  She had been there for the argument that had Sirius, Andromeda, Bellatrix, and himself swearing to give their children the most terrible star names possible in an attempt to end the hold star/constellation names had on their family.  He had gone through with it.  Of his cousins, only Andromeda had a child, and she had given her daughter the name ‘Nymphadora.’  It wasn’t a star name, but it was nearly as bad.

“Mooky will be up to care for the children shortly,” Arcturus stated.  “Narcissa, I assume you will remain here for the rest of the night in case your cousin needs your assistance?”

“Of course,” the blonde nodded easily.

Arcturus nodded to both of them and left the room.  They managed to keep their straight faces until Arcturus had closed the door and the silencing charms went up, then they burst out laughing.

“I didn’t…think you would…actually…go through with it!” Narcissa laughed.

“I’m planning on calling them Mira and Alphen,” Harry replied.  “Much less of a hazard than ‘Aspidiske’ and ‘Alsciaukat’.” 

“They’ll thank you for it,” Narcissa said drily.  “Except when their names are called out at the Sorting Ceremony, and everyone knows what monstrosities you saddled them with.”

“You’re planning on ‘Draco’,” Harry pointed out.

Narcissa blushed.

“It goes well with ‘Malfoy’,” she said quietly.

“That it does,” Harry said amicably.  “Have you decided on a date yet?”

“The summer after next,” Narcissa said.  “I want a June wedding, Lucius said July.”

“So you’re having a June wedding,” Harry surmised.

Narcissa smiled angelically, the same smile that had gotten her out of trouble when making mischief as children alongside Sirius. 

Narcissa had always been his favorite cousin, being the closest to his age.  He wasn’t quite as fond of her fiancé, Lucius Malfoy, as the man looked down on anyone he saw as ‘lesser’.  Harry, being younger, half-blooded, and a minor son of the Black family, definitely counted as lesser in his eyes.  He did have one redeeming factor, though.  Lucius honestly and truly loved Narcissa with his entire being.  Originally, the marriage contract had been between Lucius and Andromeda, but Lucius had it changed to Narcissa before Andromeda had chosen to run off with a Muggleborn.

Of course, it was only because Lucius had broken the contract with Andromeda that she’d had the opportunity to run off with a Muggleborn in the first place.

Lucius could never deny Narcissa anything, so if Narcissa wanted a June wedding, Narcissa was getting a June wedding.

“Isn’t he wondering where you are?” Harry asked.  If word that Narcissa was attending to Harry got back to the Dark Lord, he’d be facing several questions as to why we was in Britain a month before planned, and without informing his lover.

“I told him I had a familial obligation and I couldn’t speak more of it,” Narcissa stated.  “Our lord uncle said that no one was to know that you are in Britain.”

“No one can know about the twins,” Harry said firmly.  “Maybe in a few years.  Until then, they don’t exist.”

“Where will you raise them?” Narcissa questioned.

“The house in Dublin that Father had me raised in is mine,” Harry shrugged.  “I have a permanent portkey there.  The house-elves are still there, and completely capable of raising a child – or two, in this case.  I’m not planning on abandoning my children, but I’m not giving up my life for them either.  And they have each other, so they will not be without companionship.”

“And the father?” Narcissa questioned.

“I would prefer you didn’t ask,” Harry replied.  “What do you see my recovery time being?” 

“From what Healer Liu has said, I expect you’ll be completely back to normal in about a month,” Narcissa reported.

“And the pregnancy scars?” Harry questioned.  “I can get rid of them?”

“The creams Healer Liu prescribed ought to get rid of them within the month,” Narcissa promised.

When June came along, Harry was completely healed and showed no signs of ever having been pregnant.  Two days into the month, he sent a message to Tom in the linked journals the Dark Lord had gifted him.

 _Back in Britain_ , he wrote.  _Meet up at the_ Rooster _?_

He had a reply only minutes later.

_How about I take you out for dinner instead?  So you can tell me all about your trip before I fuck your brains out._

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, but he wrote back, _Sounds good to me.  When and where?_

 _Tomorrow?_ Tom offered.  _I’ll pick you up at your townhouse at seven?  I’m guessing that’s where your staying?_

_It’s where I’ll be by tomorrow.  I’m at the Manor tonight.  My lord uncle does sponsor my research, so I am technically required to report to him._

_See you then._


	2. Occultation

_Occultation – An event that occurs when one celestial body conceals or obscures another._

Five years after originally finding out he was pregnant, Arrakis Black was worried. 

The war was now dangerous enough that he was planning on leaving the country on a more permanent basis.  He had done small trips since the birth of his children, but had not been gone for more than a month in that time.  It was more than just Mira and Alphen now; he had given birth to Rasalhague Unukalhai and Vindemiatrix Praecipua Black – Sal and Demi – two years after the first twins.  The younger set was approaching three years old now – old enough that it would be safe to take them to an obscure part of the world on a purported “research trip” while Arrakis hid from the war and its effects.

There was only one problem: he was pregnant again.  And he couldn’t take a baby with him.

He didn’t want to leave the baby alone with house-elves, he definitely wasn’t leaving his son with _Muggles_ , and he couldn’t leave the baby to Narcissa and her husband, or Bellatrix and hers – their husbands were both Death Eaters, and Voldemort would want to know where the baby came from.  That same concept ruled out anyone on the Dark side of magic.

That only left one option.  Harry sighed as he pulled out a piece of parchment and began a letter to his second-youngest cousin.

Surprisingly, Sirius agreed to meet him at a Muggle café only a few days later.

“What’s this about, Harry?” the man said as he flopped down into the chair opposite him.  “Or is it ‘Arrakis’ now?  I know you purebloods tend to get stuffy about things like that.”

Harry easily ignored the jab and smiled at Sirius.

“Harry is fine, cousin,” he replied.  “Only your lord grandfather, your mother, and official documents call me Arrakis.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“I’m surprised you even contacted me.  I am disowned.  And a blood-traitor.  And pretty much completely against everything the family stands for.”

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them, looking straight into Sirius’ eyes, and saying, “I need your help.”

Sirius motioned for him to go on.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, everything about this war is heating up,” Harry stated.  “Both sides have become more insistent in their recruiting.  I don’t want to join this war, Sirius.  I don’t want to be a Death Eater.  I haven’t the stomach for it.  But as it is, I’ve been put under pressure to officially declare myself for the Dark Lord’s cause.”

“Do you need help getting away?” Sirius said gravely.

Harry hesitated.

“Not…not exactly.  I had plans made.  I was officially going off on a research trip to South America.  Isolated by the jungle, nowhere I can easily be contacted, and fits with my personality and previous research trips I’ve taken.  Everything was planned perfectly, except…” his voice trailed off.

“Except what?” Sirius prompted.

Harry bit his lower lip.

“I’m pregnant,” he admitted.  “I’m due in August.”

Sirius’ eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone!  How long has this been going on?”

“I’m not…officially…seeing anyone,” Harry sighed.  “As far as either of us are admitting, it’s a casual thing.  But he’s one of the reasons I’m leaving.  If I keep sleeping with him, I know I’ll end up a Death Eater.”

“I’d comment on your taste, but I’m pretty sure Andi is the only one of our cousins not sleeping with a Death Eater,” Sirius joked in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

Harry grimaced.

“Anyway, I can’t take the baby with me, it’s not safe for anyone under the age of two to go to the rainforest.  I can’t leave him with family, they’re all Death Eaters or at least affiliated, and then they’d use the baby to make me come back.  Do you know anyone on your side of things that would be willing to take in a baby?”

Sirius hesitated.

“I have an idea, and even if it doesn’t pan out, I’ll ask around.  I’ll need to talk to the couple I’m thinking of, I think you’ve met them…”

“Don’t tell me,” Harry said, raising a hand.  “It’s better if I don’t know.”

Sirius shut his mouth with a nod.

“Alright then.  I’ll go talk to the couple I’m thinking of tonight.  I can meet you back here tomorrow with their answer?”

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Sirius.”

Sure enough, Sirius was waiting for him the next day at the Muggle café.

“I have good news and bad news,” he said as soon as Harry sat down.

“Bad news first,” Harry requested.

“They kind of go together,” Sirius replied.  “I have a friend who was pregnant – she just lost the baby a few days ago.  They haven’t told anyone yet, because according to the healers, she can never have any more children.”

“I suppose that’s the good news?” Harry asked drily.  “Go on.  What’s the catch?”

“They’re willing to take the baby, but they want to be named the child’s legal godparents, they want custody to go to them if something ever happens to you, and they want to blood-adopt the child so it will legally be Heir to the House.”

Harry hesitated, and Sirius obviously noticed.  He sighed and said, “I knew you wouldn’t go for it.  No one would give up their firstborn to be the Heir to another House…”

“Wait,” Harry said.  “If there’s a House, it means that it’s a pureblood family.  Did you tell them that I’m a halfblood?”

“Pureblood husband, Muggleborn wife,” Sirius shrugged.  “They wouldn’t care.  I’m guessing your Death Eater friend was a pureblood too?  One that didn’t care that he was sleeping with a halfblood?”

“No, he was a halfblood,” Harry admitted.  “Pureblood mother, Muggle father.  He kept it quiet though, same as me.”

Sirius jerked back.

“Please tell me you’re not sleeping with Snape,” he almost begged.

“Severus Snape?” Harry asked in surprise.  “No, of course not.  He’s a bit too young.  My not-relationship has been going on for more than five years.”

Sirius gaped.

“With that long, it’s surprising it took you this long to get pregnant,” he joked.

Harry hesitated, then offered his hand to his cousin. 

“Will you come to my house with me, Sirius?” he asked.  “There’s something I need to show you.”

Sirius scrutinized his expression.

“If this is just some scheme to get me somewhere isolated so that you can off me…”

“No, no!” Harry shook his head.  “I swear you’ll come to no harm.  I am pregnant and I really do need help.”

Sirius finally took Harry’s hand, and Harry wasted no time in pulling him down a deserted alley and activating the portkey that would take them to the house.

“Where are we?” Sirius asked once they arrived.  “This isn’t your townhouse.”

“Dublin,” Harry stated.  “This is where Father had me raised until I was eight.  He couldn’t have his Mudblood wife and halfblood son anywhere near the respectable parts of the family, after all.  But I inherited the house when he died, and it’s where I keep my secrets.”

Harry led Sirius into the house and up the stairs to the nursery.  He carefully opened the door, in case of sleeping children.  As it turned out, he didn’t need to.

“Daddy!” Demi exclaimed, pulling herself off the ground and toddling over to greet him.  Her cry was echoed by that of her older siblings, all of whom rushed over to hug him.

Harry let out a small laugh.

“Hello, my darlings.  How are you all today?  Have Mipsy and Mopsy been taking care of you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” they all chorused. 

“Who dat, Daddy?” Sal asked around the thumb that was almost permanently stuck in his mouth, pointing towards Sirius.

Harry dragged the man forward by the elbow.

“This is my cousin, Sirius,” he introduced.  “You can call him ‘Uncle Siri.’” 

“Hi, Uncle Siri!” the group chorused again.

Harry smiled at them.

“Uncle Siri and I have things we need to go talk about, but I’ll be back to play with you soon.”

“Siri too?” Mira asked.

“We’ll see,” Harry replied, before pulling his shocked cousin out of the room and down the hall to his office. 

Once they were shut inside, Harry pushed the dazed man into a chair and called for a house-elf to bring tea.  Sirius didn’t respond until Harry had pressed the cup and saucer into his hands.

“You have children,” he said blankly.

“I do,” Harry nodded.  “Mira and Alphen are nearly five, Sal and Demi are even closer to three.  It will be safe for me to take them with me.  It’s jus the baby who’s too young.  And as you can see, I won’t be giving up my firstborn, so I think that I can agree to your friends’ terms.  Have them write up a contract and send it to me through you.  I can sign it, and then you can take it back to them so that they can sign it.”

“You’d be willing to give up your child to be another’s heir?” Sirius asked with raised eyebrows.

Harry sighed. 

“I don’t mean to sound callous.  I love all my children, including this baby.  But I have two sons already, one for my inheritance and one for my lover’s.  In that respect…in that respect, at least, I can afford to give this baby up.”

“But you don’t want to,” Sirius said softly, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his arm.

“But I don’t want to,” Harry agreed.  “If I could, I would keep all of my children with me.  But I need to get out of the country, the sooner the better.  I can’t wait a few more years for this baby to get older.  I can’t put my other four children in danger so that we can all be together.”

“Very Slytherin of you,” Sirius noted.  “I thought you were a Ravenclaw?”

“It could have gone either way,” Harry admitted.  “But my mother was the Heir of Ravenclaw, so I went into Ravenclaw.  I could have claimed the title already, but I hesitate to step onto the political playing field when it’s already so volatile.  And now I’m leaving.  Maybe when the war is over…but for now I’ll simply remain a minor son of the House of Black.”

“I suppose there’s safety in anonymity,” Sirius said.

“You wouldn’t know,” Harry scoffed teasingly.  “You’ve never been anonymous.  You’re not one for subtlety, cousin.”

“It’s why I was in Gryffindor,” Sirius agreed.  “I’ll go back to my friends, have them write up a contract.  If all goes to plan, they’ll be able to pretend that Li– that’s she’s still pregnant, so no one will even know that the child was blood adopted.”

“They’ll need time to write up the contract,” Harry mused.  “We can meet at the café again in say, a week?”

“A week sounds good,” Sirius agreed.

With his baby’s future (somewhat) secure, Harry felt no qualms in writing in the linked journal, _Just got confirmation that I’m leaving in March.  Want to meet up tonight, make the most of our time?_

_Raid tonight.  I’ll be late.  Your place or mine?_ Tom wrote back a few minutes later.

Harry thought a moment, then asked, _How early do I need to come to yours?  That way I can nap until you make it back._

_I’m leaving around 6:30._

_Do you mind if I come over early enough for dinner?_

_As long as you don’t make me late for my raid._

Tom was late for his raid.

After several back-and-forths with the contract, both parties were finally satisfied and signed the contract four weeks into July.  Two days later, Arrakis went into labor.

Twenty-seven painful hours later, Raselased Denebola Black was finally born.  Harry barely had time to hold him before he had to pass the baby off to Sirius, in order for the ruse that one of his Light-side friends was in labor to remain intact.

All of the other children were there as well, and each imitated their bearer’s actions in placing a kiss on Raselased’s forehead before Sirius whisked their younger brother away.

Harry had a week to recover from the birth, during which time Sirius returned to inform him that both the blood adoption and the presentation of the baby had gone off without a hitch, and no one was the wiser as to whose child it was.  Then, he packed his older children up and took them to the Amazon, nowhere near Britain’s blood war.

He stayed gone for more than a year.  In the end, he only returned for five days because Narcissa’s newborn daughter had died three days after birth, and he was required to show up for the funeral. 

Tom had, of course, contacted him as soon as he heard about the funeral.

_I heard about baby Malfoy.  Are you coming to the funeral?_ he wrote.

Harry was shocked when he saw the message.

_What baby Malfoy?!?  What funeral?!?  I’m in the Amazon, it takes me days to get mail!_

_Narcissa gave birth a few days ago – a daughter, Corona Malfoy.  The baby died this morning._

_Thank you for the news.  There’s a transport leaving today, so I ought to be able to get out of the jungle by tomorrow.  I can be back in Britain in two days.  When’s the funeral?_

_Not for a week.  How do you feel about spending that week with me?_

Harry felt a familiar stirring in his groin, and was pointedly reminded that he hadn’t had the company of his lover – or any man, but he wasn’t about to sleep with someone else when his regular lover was the _Dark Lord_ – in a year and a half.

_The rainforest can spare me for a week.  Five days before the funeral, two after?  Assuming you’re willing to host me that entire time._

_Anything for you, dear._

That small sign of affection caused different feelings to stir, the feelings that Harry still wasn’t ready to admit to.  It was for his children, he reminded himself.  The Dark Lord could not have children so long as the war was going on.  Arrakis Black could not have children while the war was going on – which was why he was in this research encampment under the name Harry Lesath.  His children were firmly known as Alphen, Mira, Sal, and Demi, without any hint of their full names ever being spoken.  Everyone in the encampment simply assumed that their last name was Lesath, despite the fact that only Harry had introduced himself as Lesath – his second middle name.

The children were enjoying it.  They often played with the local children, as well as the children of some of the other researchers.  At six and four, they were the youngest children in the research encampment, but that by no means inhibited them.  By this point, they were fluent in English, Spanish, Portuguese, and two or three of the indigenous languages, all of which were picked up by playing with the locals.  Harry wasn’t sure whether to be exasperated or proud when they used one of the languages that he didn’t know yet to speak privately while he was in the room.  (In the end, they had just been plotting his Mother’s Day present, so everything was fine.)

In the end, Harry got the message from Tom on the twenty-fourth, arrived in Britain on the twenty-sixth, and finally managed to pull himself out of Tom’s bed and present himself at Malfoy Manor to express his condolences to his cousin on the twenty-eighth.  The funeral was the twenty-ninth, and Harry spent the next two days getting fucked into the mattress before going home the morning of the thirty-first.

(Of course, if he’d stayed just one more day, a lot of the future troubles could have been avoided.)


	3. Apastron

_Apastron – the point of greatest separation between two stars_

Being stuck in the middle of the rainforest, Harry didn’t actually hear about what happened on Hallowe’en until three weeks after Christmas.  Even so, he didn’t know much, just that ‘You-Know-Who’ had been defeated by the ‘Boy-Who-Lived.’  Unfortunately, newspapers presumed that you had already heard the information about who the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ was.  Whatever the case, the war was over, and it was safe for Harry to return to Britain with his children.

Privately, he mourned.  He had fully expected Tom to win.  He had hoped that the war would end, and Tom would admit that he had actual feelings for Harry, and then they could be a family – the two of them and their children.

His children – still six and four, though rapidly approaching their fifth and seventh birthdays – had no idea why his mood would alternate from cheer that they were returning home to depression.

It would all be worth it, he told himself, because he would be able to find Sirius and reclaim his youngest son.  Maybe he wouldn’t have Tom, but he would have his children, and they would be safe.

He only managed to keep that attitude until arriving at Black Manor at the end of January.

“What do you mean that Sirius has been imprisoned?” he demanded after Arcturus told him the news.

“According to Dumbledore, the Potters were under the Fidelius Charm and Sirius was their Secret Keeper,” Arcturus said, taking a sip of his tea.  “Since the Dark Lord found the Potters, Sirius had to have given up the Secret.”

“I saw something in the paper about the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, but nothing explained what it was talking about,” Harry admitted.

“Last Hallowe’en, the Dark Lord went to the Potters’ safe house in Godric’s Hollow.  While he was there, he killed James and Lily Potter and attempted to kill baby Denny Potter.  Somehow, that little boy survived the Killing Curse with only a lightning-bolt scar to show for it,” Arcturus stated.  “Sirius was arrested two days later after blowing up a Muggle street, twelve Muggles, and Peter Pettigrew.  He was taken to Azkaban almost immediately.  Why are you so curious about him, Arrakis?”

Harry winced.

“I was pregnant again,” he admitted.  “I gave birth last summer.  Sirius agreed to hide the baby on the Light side so that I could get out of Britain.  You have to be at least three to go to the research encampment I was at.  He arranged with an infertile couple that they would keep Raselased until I returned.  In exchange, they would be the child’s godparents and would blood-adopt him so that he could be their heir.  But I didn’t let Sirius tell me who he gave Raselased to.  I don’t know where my son is, and now the only person who does is in Azkaban.”

Arcturus merely raised his eyebrows.

“That’s five now?  You two certainly were fertile.”

Harry blushed unwillingly as his eyes darted downward.

“Ah,” Arcturus said in surprise.  “You’re pregnant again.  Twins again, or just one this time?”

“Triplets,” Harry admitted.

He took perverse pleasure in Arcturus’ minor jaw-drop, though the lord recovered quickly.

“Eight children,” he said, still sounding slightly shocked.  “You do know that there haven’t been more than five Black children from one parent in thirteen generations?”

“I suppose I’m making up for the rest of my generation’s lack,” Harry said drily.  “Narcissa can’t carry any more after how difficult Corona’s birth was.  Andromeda seems satisfied with her little half-blood Metamorphmagus.  Bellatrix seems disinclined to have children…”

“Bellatrix is in Azkaban,” Arcturus said.  “She, the Lestrange brothers, and Bartemius Crouch Jr. were sentenced to life for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom with the Cruciatus Curse.”

“Then Bellatrix is never going to reproduce,” Harry amended.  “Regulus is dead.  Sirius is also in Azkaban and unlikely to reproduce, unless he left a bastard running around that we don’t know about.  It seems I’ll have two children for every childless Black, then two for myself.”

Arcturus hummed as he snapped his fingers for more tea.  After taking another sip, he said, “You realize, that with Sirius dead and Regulus in Azkaban, that you, Arrakis, are now the most likely candidate for the Lordship after myself?”

Harry’s eyes widened.  He had never even considered that he might one day be Lord Black.  He was only distantly related to Arcturus, and he was a half-blood to boot.

“My mother was a Muggle-born,” he pointed out.

“A Muggle-born from the Squib line of Rowena Ravenclaw,” Arcturus pointed out.  “Certainly a worthy match for a Black, even if it was frowned upon at the time.  But you were raised in pureblood customs.  Were you a blood traitor, things would be different, but you are a worthy member of the family.”

Hearing those words, the family approval that Harry had always sought, almost brought tears to his eyes.  If any did leak, he blamed it on pregnancy hormones.

“Technically,” Arcturus continued, “you’re still second in line for the lordship.  Your grandfather is the current Heir, with Regulus’ death and Sirius’ imprisonment, but I highly doubt that he will outlast me.”

Harry was relatively certain that Pollux Black was at least a decade younger than Arcturus Black, but he wasn’t going to comment.

“In fact,” Arcturus said, “I plan to speak with Pollux and convince him to relinquish the Heirship to you.  It would be best overall.  Even if Pollux does outlast me, it won’t be by long.  I’m already eighty, and Pollux is pushing seventy.  Such rapid turnover of the lordship would not be good for the House.”

Harry refrained from pointing out that besides himself and his children, all of the remaining Blacks-by-name were over the age of fifty, and unlikely to be heavily affected by the change.  If his lord uncle wanted to hand him the Lordship of House Black, so be it.

“If you go to the Ministry as a member of the Black House, and tell them that you seek information as the future Heir Black from the previous Heir Black, they should let you in.”

Arcturus was wrong.  They wouldn’t let him in.  According to Bartemius Crouch, Sr. (father of Bartemius Crouch, Jr., who had been arrested alongside the Lestranges for the torture of the Longbottoms), Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, none of the imprisoned Death Eaters were allowed any visitors.  His disdain for the Black family name was obviously as well, despite his mother being one of Arcturus’ first cousins.

Harry kept making appeals for nearly a week, before giving up and going back to Arcturus.

The DMLE gave the Lord Black the same reply, even when Arcturus tried to pull rank as Lord Black to get access to Sirius for Harry.

Arcturus took it to court.

After nearly five months of battle, they were no closer to a resolution, but Harry was ready to give birth to the triplets.  (Well, he wasn’t ready, but they had decided they were showing up anyway.)

Just as with his first birth, Arcturus had called back the Chinese Healer who specialized in male pregnancies and had allowed Narcissa to come in as a midwife.  She didn’t actively practice healing anymore, as she was now busy with her son, Draco, who was only a month older than Raselased, but she was still more than capable of acting as the midwife, even in a triplet birth.

“It’s a girl,” Narcissa announced of the first baby.  The other two followed shortly: both boys.  “Three children, all born on Midsummer’s Eve,” Narcissa stated.  “They’ll be magically powerful.”

Harry didn’t doubt that, superstitious predictions or not.  Three was one of the most powerful magical numbers – arithmancers argued whether three or seven was more powerful, though most held with seven.  Midsummer’s Eve was known to be a date of high magical power, alongside Midsummer itself, All Hallows’ Eve and Samhain, Walpurgis Night and Beltane, and Yuletide.  Considering he had three children born on Midsummer’s Eve that were conceived on Samhain, and they were born of an unaided male pregnancy between himself and the Dark Lord…the chances that one of his children would be a Squib were next to nil.

“Well,” Arcturus said when he was allowed in, “at least you have enough children for the lordships now.”

“Lordships?” Narcissa questioned.  She was still in the dark as to Harry’s children’s sire.

“The sire was the Heir to two Lordships,” Arcturus said calmly, “just as our Arrakis will be the Heir to two.  Ravenclaw through his mother, and he will be Lord Black after me.”

Narcissa started at that.

“With Regulus dead and Sirius in Azkaban, I’m the closest male heir,” Harry said drily.  “The only male heir not over fifty, actually.”

“The only Black-by-birth-and-name under the age of fifty,” Arcturus added.  “Excepting your children, of course.”

“What are these ones going to be named?” Narcissa asked, looking morbidly curious. 

“Once I found out they were triplets, I decided that they should have similar names,” Harry said with forced cheerfulness, as if he wasn’t exhausted from giving birth to three children mere hours before.  “Sadalachbia Alya, Sadalmelik Tarazed, and Sadalsuud Edasich.”

“Lucky star of the tents, lucky star of the king, and luck of lucks,” Arcturus identified immediately. 

“Nicknames?” Narcissa asked.

“Sadie, Melik, and…I’m not really sure.  Lucky?” Harry offered.

“Lucky,” Arcturus deadpanned.

“His name means ‘luck of lucks,’” Narcissa said, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.  “That sounds like a Lucky to me.”

Arcturus’ right eye twitched.

“You want to call a scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black ‘Lucky?’”

“I think it suits,” Harry said decisively.  “He’ll be Sadalsuud Black in public.  But family can call him Lucky.”

Arcturus blinked once more, than turned and left the room.  Once he was far enough away, Narcissa threw up a Silencing Charm and they both started laughing.

“You may just drive him to distraction, cousin dear,” Narcissa replied.

“I enjoy cracking the older generation’s masks,” Harry replied amicably.  “I’ll probably call him Eddy though.”

“Well, it is a bit more dignified than ‘Lucky’,” Narcissa laughed.  “Would you like me to stay the night, just in case?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Harry assured.  “Go home to your husband and your baby, Cissy.  I’ll be fine.  The house-elves are keeping an eye on me and will call you immediately if something goes wrong.”

His cousin eventually agreed, leaving Harry alone with his babies.  He staggered out of bed so he could hover over their cradles.

“I’m sure your father would have loved you,” he said quietly.  “All of you, Raselased included.  If he’d had the chance.  If he’d won.  If I’d told him.  Maybe he would have been more careful, if he knew he has someone to live for.  He didn’t fight for me.  He might’ve fought for you.”

Unsurprisingly, none of the babes responded.

A month later, Harry was at his wits’ end.  He finally went with his last resort: he approached Dumbledore.

It was the summer holidays, but Dumbledore was still in residence at his office in Hogwarts.  His reply to Harry’s letter was cautious, but seemed open enough.  Of course, Dumbledore tried to play the kindly grandfather for everyone who approached him, but Harry had been warned enough times between his lord uncle and his lover that he knew most of the man’s tricks.

Harry Apparated to the front gates shortly before sunset.  His cloak was wrapped tightly about him, and the hood was pulled low over his head.  No one would see his identity from afar. 

The gates opened at his touch.  No Heir could be forbidden entry to the ancient castle, unless by agreement from the other three Heirs.  Harry had never agreed to ban Voldemort, so Voldemort still had access to Hogwarts as well, despite Dumbledore’s best efforts to keep him out.

Harry did his best to walk briskly up to the castle, but his body was still not recovered from the triplets, and he ended up stopping to rest when he was three-quarters of the way there.  He Conjured an armchair and collapsed into it, watching the waters of the Black Lake sway back and forth.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching from behind him.

“Are you well, Mr. Black?” Dumbledore asked, coming to stand beside him.

“I’m afraid I’m still recovering from being unwell,” Harry replied smoothly.  “The walk was a bit much for me.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dumbledore replied as he Conjured up his own armchair – a bright purple one, patterned with shimmering moons and stars – and sat down in it.  “We can have our discussion here, if you’d like?”

“If you’d put up privacy wards,” Harry requested.  “This matter is very much private.”

Dumbledore did so.  Harry kept a close eye on his wand, but the wards he cast were exactly what they were meant to be: exceptionally powerful privacy wards. 

“Now,” Dumbledore said as he finished, “what is it you wished to speak with me about?”

“I want a vow that you will not share this information without my permission,” Harry said firmly.  “This knowledge cannot harm anyone, but if it gets out, those it concerns _will_ be in danger.”

Dumbledore hesitated, but held his wand up and intoned, “I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, vow not to share the information given to me today by Arrakis Eltanin Lesath Black without his permission.  So mote it be.” 

A small flash of light sealed the vow.

Harry wasted no time in speaking, even as Dumbledore conjured a small table and summoned a house elf to bring tea.

“I need to speak with Sirius Black.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed.

“Why, my boy?”

Harry took a deep breath, and stated, “Sirius is the only person who knows where my son is.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a child,” Dumbledore said in surprise.

The house-elf returned, and Dumbledore poured tea for the both of them.  Harry was handed a white-and-silver brocade patterned cup, while Dumbledore took the lurid orange-and-green one.

Harry snorted slightly.

“That’s rather the point.  My…my lover was a Death Eater.  I didn’t want to join the Dark forces.  I didn’t want my children involved, so I never told him that I was pregnant, and I never told him we had children.  I decided the best way to protect my children was to ensure that no one knew they existed, not even their father.  If I didn’t tell anyone, Voldemort could never learn of them and use them against me to force me to join the Death Eaters.”

“Children, plural?” Dumbledore questioned.

“I have eight total, now,” Harry admitted.

Dumbledore choked on the sip of tea he’d just taken.

“ _Eight_ children?  And no one knows?” he demanded.

“My lord uncle knows.  My cousin Narcissa delivered them under blood-oath.  There was also a Chinese Healer my lord uncle hired, one who specialized in male pregnancies.  He supervised all the births.  Sirius knew about the older five.  The triplets were born last month.  My oldest twins are seven, the younger twins are five, and my missing son is nearly two.”

“Why is Sirius the only one who knows where your son is?” Dumbledore asked gently.

Harry sighed.

“As you may remember, I left the country two years ago, in April, for a research position in the Central American rainforest.  I actually didn’t leave until August, after the birth of my son.  No children under the age of two could be in the research encampment, but I had to get out of the country.  The pressure on me to join the Death Eaters was increasing.  I had to get out of the country, along with my children.  Everything was planned until I found out I was pregnant again.  Sirius agreed to find a couple on your side of the war who would be willing to take in a baby and pretend it was theirs.  I requested not to know who my son was going to, so long as Sirius would vouch for them, for both their protection and mine.  It’s safe for me to be in the country again.  I want my child.  But I don’t know where he is.”

“Several families were wiped out in the last year of the war,” Dumbledore pointed out gently.  “Are you sure your son lives?”

“I last saw Sirius two days before Voldemort was defeated, and he assured me that my son was well,” Harry said firmly.  “There were no children killed after that point.  My son is alive.  I just don’t know where he is.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“I’m afraid, my boy, that after this many months, Sirius will be in no position to answer your question.  Reports from Azkaban say that the prisoners are already well on their way to being insane.”

“But I might be able to get something out of him!” Harry begged.  “Please, can’t you get me into Azkaban, just for a short time?  This is my son we’re talking about!”

“I’m afraid that it is against Ministry policy,” Dumbledore said quietly.  “Mr. Crouch is being very firm about that.”

Harry’s face fell.

“Is there really nothing that can be done?”

“Aside from watching and waiting when the time comes for your son to go to Hogwarts?  I’m afraid not,” Dumbledore said sympathetically.

Harry buried his head in his hands.

“I can’t – I can’t leave Britain without knowing where my son is.  What am I to do?”

“She hasn’t announced it yet, but Professor Babbling plans to make this her last year at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said.  “Would you be interested in replacing her when she leaves?”

“What about my children?” Harry asked.  “I can’t leave them alone ten months out of the year.”

“The house-elves can watch them,” Dumbledore offered.  “I assume you have some keeping an eye on them normally?”

“Usually,” Harry admitted.  He took a deep breath.  “I will do under certain conditions: I will teach under the name Harry Lesath.  My children will be enrolled under the name Lesath.  The teachers who know me will be sworn to secrecy as to my true identity.  No one will know that I am Arrakis Black.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened.

“You’re still hiding.”

“I’m still hiding,” Harry agreed.  “I don’t want my children being public knowledge.  I don’t want my location being public knowledge.  So far as anyone knows, I’m still somewhere in South America.”

“How long are you planning to hide?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

“As long as it takes to protect my children,” Harry replied, equally quiet.  “All my life if I have to.  It’s not like I have much family that’s going to miss me.  Narcissa and Andromeda are the only cousins I’ve got whose not dead or imprisoned, and we don’t talk that often. The only person who needs to know anything is my lord uncle.”

“Have you considered a Fidelius Charm?” Dumbledore asked suddenly.

Harry frowned. 

“I see no reason that my family needs to live in a house that denies us the right to visitors.”

“Not for your house,” Dumbledore said.  “The Fidelius Charm can hide any secret within the soul of the caster.  If you hide that Arrakis Black and Harry Lesath are the same person, no one will be able to recognize you.  You can do the same with your children’s identities.”

“As long as no one knows who I am, no one knows who my children are,” Harry said firmly.  “Not even my children themselves.  I always refer to them by their nicknames.  Only Narcissa and my lord uncle know their real names, and Narcissa only saw them at their birth.  No one will recognize them.  I may cast the spell for Alphen – my eldest – once the time comes for him to act as my heir.  But until then, only my identity needs to be concealed.”

“I would be perfectly willing to cast the spell for you,” Dumbledore offered.

“I would prefer to do it myself, Headmaster,” Harry said coolly.  “But I thank you for your assistance, and your employment offer.  I accept.”

Harry and his children moved into the castle in August of 1983.  Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall were the only two who knew his true identity – Minerva was told in case something happened to Dumbledore.  Both had powerful Occlumency skills, so Harry was not worried his secret would get out that way.

Babysitting quickly became a way for students to earn House points.  At the time Harry started at Hogwarts, the triplets were a year old, Raselased would have been three, the younger twins were six, and the elder twins were eight.  They enjoyed it when the students would come play with them.  Harry appreciated that his children’s attention was on someone else for a time.  And the students did a very good job of wearing the children out so that they would go to bed more easily.

The next September, Nymphadora Tonks started at Hogwarts and was Sorted into Hufflepuff.  Harry had only seen his cousin Andromeda’s daughter a few times before his trip to the Amazon.  He and Narcissa had visited her together, unwilling to completely give up on someone they cared about simply because she had officially been disowned.  Dora was sweet, but she had a temper.  Her most prominent feature – or rather, her lack of consistent features – made her a favorite of the Lesath children.  It was no surprise to Harry when, two years after meeting her cousin, Mira Lesath – born Aspidiske Mira Black – was Sorted into Hufflepuff with her idol.  Her twin, Alphen, ended up in Gryffindor.

Two years after that, the teachers joked that Harry completed the set when Sal and Demi were Sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw.  One casually mentioned that if he’d had one more child, he could try for two full sets.  Harry tried not to let his fists clench at that.  He was quietly relieved that his second son was Sorted into Slytherin – Rasalhague could inherit the Slytherin Lordship now.  Unlike other lordships, the Founders’ seats could only be passed on if the heir was in their House to begin with.  Now he just needed one of his other sons to be Sorted into Ravenclaw so that his own title would have an heir.

He wasn’t sure if it was Dumbledore’s intention in the first place, but teaching helped.  Between his students and his children, his days were filled enough that the hole left by Raselased’s disappearance as not as prominent.  But Harry never forgot, and he never let his children forget either.  As September of 1991 approached, they were all eagerly awaiting the return of their missing family member, whoever he might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're enjoying it so far! Please review!


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